


way too pretty for prison

by bookishgypsy



Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22790605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookishgypsy/pseuds/bookishgypsy
Summary: “So, that’s what this is all about? You go out on a bender and punch Kirby in the face because I said we should suspend the house search?” // Falliam. Oneshot.
Relationships: Fallon Carrington/Liam Ridley
Comments: 7
Kudos: 50





	way too pretty for prison

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure why the thought of Liam coming to pick Fallon up out of jail amuses me so much, but it does, so this came to be. Mostly for laughs. Enjoy?

It’s dark when his eyes open groggily to the sound of his phone ringing. 

His first though is that it’s Fallon, ready to have some more choice words with him after their small scuffle earlier in the evening, but he’s caught off guard when he catches a glimpse at the bright screen. 

_Sam Jones._

He clicks the green button to accept the call, “Sam?”

“Liam, hi,” Sams’ voice echoes back immediately and the first thing he notices is how distressed he sounds; out of sorts, almost. His words slur together so quickly his two words almost sounds like one. 

It’s enough to instantly put him on edge. 

“What’s up? Did something happen? Is Fallon okay?”

“Well,” he pauses for a split second. “Your girlfriend just got arrested for assault and battery at my bar, so I’d suggest maybe heading to the station as soon as possible.”

His eyebrows furrow together at the words he hears, because there was no way he could have heard that correctly. He sits himself up in his bed, leaning his back against the headboard, rubbing any sleep still lingering from his eyes with this thumb. 

“What do you mean Fallon was arrested?”

“Like, read her rights, handcuffed, and wheeled out of here in the back of a cop car.”

“I’m on my way now,” he sighs, swinging his feet out from under his covers. “But, I have to ask, what’d she do this time?”

* * *

“She’s in the interrogation room, you can head on in and see her if you want.”

He nods in the direction of the guard before he opens the heavy door, quietly slipping himself in to the small space to find his girlfriend sitting on the metal chair that looked anything but comfortable. Her head’s down in her hands on the table, unaware of any of her current surroundings. She looked so…unkempt, a word he never thought he’d use to describe the brunette across from him; she was always so put together, so on top of everything, even in her lowest moments that she would let him in on, she always remained in control. 

“Well, there’s my little convict.”

Her head lifts up at the sound of his voice, eyes narrowing in on him in confusion. She lets the façade she’s holding on to slip for a moment and he sees it - sadness, embarrassment, disappointment in herself. The fact that he’s _here_ witnessing her like this; but she should know he wouldn’t judge her for this, he wouldn’t judge her for anything. It’s quick, but he catches it, before she sends daggers (he’s pretty sure, at least) off in his direction. “Why are you here?”

“Nice to see you, too, babe.” Liam steps forward to the lone table sitting in the otherwise empty room and pulls the second chair out and takes a seat across from her. He reaches for her tiny hands set against the silver table, but she pulls them away from his reach before he has a chance to tangle their fingers together. He sighs watching her coil herself away from him, turning in her chair towards her right. “I bailed you out.”

Her hands flail up, dramatically, as always, twisting her body back to face him straight on. Her hair falls below her shoulders, her usually precise curls a little messy and out of sorts. Her eyes are still a little glossed over, no doubt the alcohol she’s obviously consumed still lingering inside her. “Well, than go get a refund.”

His eyes narrow in at her words, “I’m not sure it works that way, Fal."

“Look, what are you doing here?” Fallon looks up at him, defeat looming in her eyes, though she’d be damned to admit it to him, but he knew her better than that at this point. “You weren’t even my phone call.”

“Fallon, you didn’t even make a phone call.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but no sound comes out as she trips over the words in her mind, looking for the right ones. Her eyes find his in the bright room, his eyebrows raising while he waits for her reply in amusement. She rolls her eyes back, as she muffles out a huffed, “You don’t have to be so technical.” 

They fall into a brief silence, Fallon doing seemingly everything in her power to avoid looking in his direction. He hears the shuffling of officers outside the door, papers ruffling around, the sound of the classic rock music softly blaring. The ticking of the clock hanging on the wall clicks with each passing second, _tick tock, tick tock_ , so persistent and nagging. 

“You wanna tell me what happened at the bar with Kirby?”

“I might have punched her in the face.”

The way she says it is so nonchalant, so blasé, that he can’t help but grin in her direction. He tries to hide it from her, but she catches it; of course she does. She catches his gaze and smirks back at him, biting at the corner of her lip to try to hide it. 

“Care to tell me why?” Liam’s hands clasp together against the shiny, cool, metal table between them as he watches the wheels spin around in her head. 

She shrugs ever so slightly, “She was pissing me off.”

“You broke her nose,” he states firmly, matter-of-factly. 

“So?”

“And she’s pressing charges,” he says calmly, but sternly, too; he just wants her to understand the severity of what she did. 

“And I’ll pay my lawyers to make it go away.”

“Fallon,” he sighs, because this conversation was getting nowhere. He thought she’d be more eager to get out of this building when she saw him, but he should have known better. Fallon Carrington was as stubborn as they come and she would put up a hell of a fight to prove she’s right in any situation. 

“Look, I don’t really want to see you right now,” she breaths out slowly. It’s not angry, it’s…frustrated, sad, defeated. She’s obviously exhausted, he can see that in her eyes, but he can see it in the way she moves her body, too. “So, you can go.”

“You’d rather spend the night here in a cell,” he begins, “than go home with me?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Fallon, you wouldn’t last an hour behind bars."

“We don’t even _live_ together,” she says, arms crossing against her chest as she leans herself against the back of the chair, armed and ready to have this fight by the looks of it. “And it seems like you don’t even want to anymore.”

“So, _that’s_ what this is all about?” He pauses a moment, piecing all the events of their evening together, piecing together the pieces of _her_ evening after she’d left his place in a huff. Where she’d clearly ran off to La Mirage, drank as much as she could, stumbled into Kirby who inevitably felt the wrath of the girl in front of him. “You go out on a bender and punch Kirby in the face because I said we should suspend the house search?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Liam,” she scoffs, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. But, she looks right at him when she tells him, “I punched her in the face because she told me she slept with my brother.”

“ _Oh,_ ” he says quietly. _Damn,_ he thinks. That’s not what he expected to hear at all. And on top of her being slightly angry with him, and then to hear _that,_ mixed with whatever alcohol she’d consumed, he kind of understands why she ticked. It was still _wrong,_ but he isn’t surprised, is all. “I get that that upsets you, but did it really warrant her a broken nose?”

“In the moment it did.”

He runs his hand through his hair, leaning back against his own incredibly uncomfortable chair muttering, “I can’t help but feel that this is my fault.”

“Well, maybe cause it is.”

“When I said that we should suspend the house search,” he continues on, ignoring her sarcastic quip. “I didn’t say it because I didn’t want to live with you.”

Her sad eyes look directly at him, he can tell she’s hanging on to his every word, waiting for him to continue. 

“And I’m sorry that that’s what you thought I meant, because I very much want to live with you,” he smiles at her. “And fall asleep next to you every night, and wake up to you in my arms every morning.”

“Then why stop the house search, Liam?”

He sighs loudly, reaching into the left pocket of his jeans to pull out the small shiny object. _So much for surprising her,_ he thinks. He holds up a silver metal key in front of her eye sight before tossing it over to her side of the table where the bang against the hard metal echoes throughout the room.

She looks down at it for a moment, confusion on her face as she studies what she sees. “What’s that?”

“It’s our house key,” he mutters quietly. 

She raises her eyebrows as she looks up at him asking him, “House?”

“I know I told you they passed on our offer,” he begins. Liam reaches out for her hands again, and this time her small hands curl around his palms, squeezing gently against him. “And they did. But the original buyers backed out and I got a call from our real estate agent a few days ago that it was ours if we wanted it.”

“And you bought it?”

“Fallon, you fell in love with that house,” he says, thumb rubbing against the back of her palm in soft, repetitive circles. “The minute you walked in that door, your eyes lit up. I thought…I thought I’d surprise you with it.”

They’re both silent a moment, Fallon utterly still as her eyes focus in on their tangled hands. 

“I just wanted to give you your dream home. I just wanted to make you happy,” he shrugs. “I should have known trying to surprise you wouldn’t have at all gone to plan.”

“Yeah, you really should know that by now.” She laughs lightly finally, _finally_ , a soft smile gracing her face; that hard wall she put up starting to fall down around her. “So, we bought a house? We’re really doing this?”

“We’re really doing this,” he smiles at her. “That is, if you still want to.”

She bites at her lower lip, nodding slowly but surely. “I want to.”

“Now,” he says, standing up and holding one hand out for her to grasp on to. She does immediately. "Can I please take you home so you can sleep off the rest of that alcohol?” 


End file.
